God's Gymnasium
As I havereported (complained, whined, moaned) on more than a few occasions, I awoke from my knee replacementsurgery last June with foot drop on the same leg. In spite of the “this is extremely rare” responsefrom my orthopedic surgeon, the symptoms persisted and my flappy foot proved tobe a constant source of annoyance. I was told nerves heal quite slowly. I wore a brace in my shoe to keep my toeselevated to avoid tripping and falling on my newly renovated knee.
The month prior to this surgery I became a member of the Center for Health and Wellbeing located in Winter Park, Florida.
The center is located barely ten minutes from my home (23 minutes by bicycle on the trail leading from my front door to the center’s front door). This Center became an integral, even essential party of my recovery taking me to the door of my “graduation” from physical therapy last week.
Designersof this center intentionally chose theterm, “wellbeing” rather than wellness. One implies wholeness, focusing on the mind, body, and spirit; the otheris more frequently used to describe physical health. Aside from the fitness center, spin room, andgroup exercise studio the architecture and other amenities promote a sense ofpeace and wellbeing. It’s an absolutelybeautiful place inspired by nature. There are multiple gardens, including a bamboogarden, meditation grove, aromatherapy garden and a welcome garden with beds of edible herbs andvegetables grown for the Center’s healthy café.
I visit the Center three to four timesper week for classes, workouts, physical therapy, acupuncture, or evenlunch. I’ve been there with suchregularity the staff calls me by name. Icredit this Center with exponentially improving my quality of life.
I remember the day I limped into AdventHealth Sports Medicine and Rehab located on the second floor of the CHW for myinitial evaluation. My knee demonstratedconsiderable improvement. The flexion inmy foot however, was so restricted I could not raise my foot sufficiently tofit even a single piece of paper under it.
Justin, Meagan, and Chap cajoled, encouraged, electrocuted, and cared. “Some day soon, we will be able to fit a bible under your foot.” Chap assured. They liked my name. “Mrs. Kitchens!” Justin would call from across the room. “How are we doing?” I remember the breakthrough in September when my flexion went from -55 degrees to -15. My trio of therapists clapped and cheered. It was then I knew I would regain the use of my foot and my brace would no longer be a staple of my wardrobe.
“Justin, I think I’m ready,” I tentatively said last week at the beginning of my physical therapy session. “Ok, Mrs. Kitchens, let me measure.” Crawling on his belly, measuring tools in hand, he compared foot flexion. “What about my slacker toe?” I asked referring to my big toe that had stubbornly refused to join the others in their steady improvement. “The flexion in your right foot (injured foot) is better than the left!”
A few weeks ago I visited Shooz on ParkAvenue to buy a celebratory pair of shoes to replace the neon orange sneakersI’d been wearing since June. “You had afoot drop?!” Charles exclaimed. “No onecomes back from foot drop.”
It felt like a miracle. Eight months of therapy in the PT office, home,and Crosby Center had paid off! I had myfoot back. I could wear real shoesagain. I can climb stairs without fear. I can walk my dogs around Baldwin Park. “Meet me at the front Mrs. Kitchens.” Justin handed me a cowbell as I approached thedesk. I’d heard the bell wrung by othersduring this exit ritual. I’m not sure ifI believed I would be exiting on such a high note.
Maybe it was that silly cowbell or thehugs they gave me that made me pause to savor the moment. I was filled with such gratitude. So grateful for the support and faithdemonstrated by friends and family, and so grateful to the Center for Healthand Wellbeing for helping me heal my spirit and my body.